


lead me through the valley without shadows

by vicarious_den



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Ash Lynx Lives, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 18:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17411912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicarious_den/pseuds/vicarious_den
Summary: Ash wakes up from a nightmare.





	lead me through the valley without shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Prowadź mnie doliną bez cieni](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17393984) by [vicarious_den](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vicarious_den/pseuds/vicarious_den). 



> english is not my native language - mistakes happen. bf is not a popular fandom in poland so i thought that translating my work into english would be a good idea
> 
> big thanks to die Otter for beta reading. comments and kudos mean the world to me
> 
> [my tumblr](https://letmeshipmyshit.tumblr.com) if you want to say hi ;)

The night is quiet and warm; the pale pink cherry blossoms are rustling in the light breeze and their delicate scent is wafting in the air. Ash’s mind is on fire. He's sitting on a futon with a blanket wrapped around his stomach, and he doesn't remember when he got up, when he woke up, if that nightmare is one you can wake up from. He glances over the familiar shapes: a desk with a chipped corner (Eiji said he had once accidentally hit it with scissors), a swivel chair that no longer turns around, faded posters of various athletes (“I didn’t have the heart to take them off, Ash”), a chandelier shaped like a lantern. He tries to anchor himself in reality, put himself firmly in what's happening now and push away what has happened _before_.  
  
The shivers don't cease, and he tries to convince himself that it's because of the cold, that he has sweated a lot and now even a small wind is unpleasantly chill when it brushes over his damp skin. He rubs him arms to warm them up, to give himself some comfort, but he's losing control and he feels his nails sinking deep into the muscles of his forearms as if he was having a contraction. He knows that Eiji is not asleep anymore, that he probably woke up even earlier than Ash himself (light sleep is an acquired reflex), but he waits, he always waits for Ash to reach out to him.  
  
When he's finally able to feel the texture of the blanket, the fabric of his t-shirt sticking to his back, the cracks in between the planks in the wooden floor into which he digs his nails, only then he turns his head left and looks down at Eiji lying there. Eiji's eyes are open and vigilant, but there's no compassion in them, no anger, basically nothing. Although Eiji is normally like an open book for anyone who looks at him, in those fragile moments between the night and the day when the demons of the past reach their cold, wet fingers back for Ash, in those moments there is no way to read anything from him.  
  
Eiji smiles softly; he extends his hand but stops it directly between the pillows, not entering Ash's personal space, and he lays it down there, palm up, in a silent invitation that Ash doesn't have to accept. Ash slowly sinks down onto the futon and, after a moment of hesitation, he extends his own hand and curls it around Eiji's. It's their little ritual. Eiji understands that physical contact is the last thing Ash wants in such moments but at the same time he needs it like air. So they meet halfway by finding the golden mean, something that will keep Ash afloat until he's ready to swim to the shore.  
  
A long time passes, or maybe not, it's hard to tell in the dark room, but Ash's heart finally slows down its rhythm and his skin no longer feels as if someone had forcibly pulled it over his body. He shyly raises his head and shifts towards Eiji, who immediately opens his arms.  
  
Later, surrounded by the citrus scent so different from expensive colognes, tobacco and old whisky, with warm fingers petting his hair and a heartbeat rocking him to sleep like a long-forgotten lullaby, Ash lets himself close his eyes and dream about the nights when he isn’t woken up by nightmares.  
  
  


 


End file.
